


A Face in the Crowd

by PastelBlueDahlia



Category: Her (2013), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Confessions, Depression, Falling In Love, Fluff, Her (2013 film) AU, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Viktor, POV Yuuri, Phone Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-13 20:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11193267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBlueDahlia/pseuds/PastelBlueDahlia
Summary: „Operating systems evolve with every second, and over time develop own thoughts and personalities. See, you start with a basic, friendly personality. And then, as you start talking, your OS learns from you. In a way, a OS is something like a counterpart, a piece of the same puzzle you're a part of. It completes you.“  Yuuri said, his voice soft, almost as if he was sharing a secret with Viktor he shouldn‘t tell anyone. „I think that is the best part -  finding the other half of that puzzle.“-----------------Viktor had never known a life besides skating. But now, where this love started to drain out, he noticed just how empty his life was. As a company gives him the change to get an OS 1, many things begin to change. And through Yuuri, he experiences for the first time something like life and love.





	1. You Play a Game by the Rigid Rule (But You Cheat Yourself)

Over the years, Viktor got used to carving patterns into the ice.  
  
The ice, hard, demanding and merciless would bend under his feet, take everything he could give, and the only trace of all the exhaustion, of the sweat, of the painful hours repeating, repeating, repeating were these beautiful, clear lines in the ice. These lines would vanish under a Zamboni completely like they never existed in the first place. Two conflicting feelings swirled by the thought of that in Viktor‘s mind: the first was that he hated it. He wanted to let others see how much he forced the ice to bend to his will, wanted to leave something visible, to create something, even if it was broken and useless. The second thought was that he loved it. No matter what he did, how hard he landed, how painfully the cold numbed his body, it didn‘t change. There were no cracks showing, no imperfections, or at least nothing that wasn‘t fixable.  
  
In that moment, he somehow thought of these conflicting things, about his love and his hate for the ice, something that manifested recently. It was surprising that he only had these kinds of thoughts now, when he already spent 20 years of his life on the ice. Unfortunately, with these thoughts swung a lot of other sensations. Like the throbbing pain in his temples, caused from the bright light in his bed room. Or the bitter feeling in his mouth from the alcohol from last night. Beside him was just good old Makkachin, curiously sniffing at his mouth that was still sticky from the sugar of his drinks and the kisses he had shared between drunken giggles.  
  
He turned on his back, Makkachin's head rested on his chest and the crook of his arms thrown over his eyes as he tried to breathe the pounding in his head away. His body felt heavy, as if someone was stepping at him, grinning mockingly from above. He briefly wondered if that was what happened last night or why such a specific imagine flashed before his eyes.  
  
Viktor would have probably nodded off again if Makkachin wouldn‘t have started to lick his face. He sighed and got up to take a shower. If it weren‘t for Makkachin, he would probably have spent the whole day in bed.  


When he walked into the kitchen he was not surprised to find it empty. The little sting he felt irritated him and made him furrow his brows in confusion.  
  
The thought of eating something made him feel nauseous, and the only thing he could convince himself to drink was a glass of orange juice. It tasted bitter on his minty tongue, but he gulped it down regardless.  
  
Viktor flopped ungracefully and heavy on the couch, feeling already exhausted and tired again. Makkachin jumped on top of him, her head a solid, calming weight on his chest. He absentmindedly ran his fingers through her curly fur as he checked his phone.  
  
The girl had left him a message, saying she had a great time and that he could call her anytime. He had read these words or listened to them countless times before, and sometimes, especially when all of this began, he was stupid enough to accept the offer. They didn‘t remember him. He had thought that he could distinguish these people by now, the ones that only wanted him for sex. Sometimes he wondered if he was so focused on them that he couldn‘t see the normal people anymore, or if there weren‘t anyone in the first place. Beautiful people like her had so many things in common, like their little smirks or the suggestive eyes, the light presses of tights against his under tables. Flirting came easy to him, and Viktor would lie if he said he never enjoyed it. And he certainly enjoyed the sex. But over time, it became harder and harder to be just one of many, a faceless guy in the crowd. Someone who could be discarded and forgotten before the sun rose. Those kinds of people wouldn‘t lay a finger on someone twice, because it got so terrifyingly easy to care. Viktor knew that. Partly because he was the one that uselessly exchanged numbers that never got dialed and left before their bodies even cooled down, back then when he was young and foolish. A heart had been the lightest of weights, so light he would never even feel it in his body, hadn't even known on which side it was.  
  
Sometimes, in rarer quieter moments, when the sun started to rise and he felt so calm and satisfied with everything, he wanted a little more. He would press their bodies together tightly, would touch them, draw fragile patterns on their skin, tell them about himself, little secrets he didn‘t tell anyone. And there would always, always be that terrible moment when their brows furrowed, almost unnoticeable, their eyes questioning. Almost as if he was too much, had gone too far. Then he pulled away, a joke on his lips, but there were also occasions when he was pulled back into their arms. The warmth made his heart ache painfully, as if it were clutched in a fist. It hurt so much he wanted to cry.  
  
Since when did another body fail to be soothing, to calm him down? Wrapped up in the arms of another and not feeling the slightest bit consoled, not feeling a connection felt like a mistake, like there was something wrong with him. As if he could never, under no circumstances love someone back. This thought was sometimes even scarier than never being loved.

Viktor's only true love had always been the ice, but now where this love slowly started to drain out, started to cause other emotions that were so very different from the joy he had felt whenever he had stepped onto the ice, Viktor noticed he had never experienced any other form of love in his life. Had never known any kind of life besides skating, had only ever really lived when he carved those patterns into the ice to tell a story. A story that could never be his own.  
  
He sighed and dug his nose into Makkachin's warm fur, breathing in the familiar smell. One thing Makkachin had learned over the years was not to move when Viktor cried into her fur, and Viktor hated the part of himself that got his dog used to something horrible like that.  
  
The phone in his hand chimed with the melody of his past year‘s free skate. He sniffled and braced himself, prepared to hear Yakov scream at him like usual. Surprisingly, as he answered the call his voice was almost calm, even though still grumpy as ever.  
  
„Vitya, don‘t you dare come to the rink today, do you hear me? Resting is existential for an athlete, and I have other skaters I have to take care of. I don‘t have the time to put up with you half-assed training.“  
  
Viktor chewed on the inside of his cheek, almost drawing blood before he answered with a tight fake smile stretched across his face „I know you will miss me when I‘m not there.“ He prayed that it wasn‘t obvious that he had cried.  
  
Yakov clicked his tongue. „Just make sure to rest today. And tomorrow I want to see you at the rink, 8 am.“ he said and ended the call abruptly.  
  
Viktor clutched the phone in his hands tightly, his knuckles white. He hated to worry others. And he especially hated to worry Yakov. That call meant that despite his harshness and cold attitude he felt the need to console Viktor. That he thought nobody else would do it. Viktor felt a lump in his throat, too heavy to ignore. His coach knew he was the only family he had. So he wanted to follow Yakov‘s instructions and take properly care of himself.

 

 

~~~~

 

  
Taking care of himself meant walking Makkachin three times a day and then laying in bed, going through social media and in the evening eating some greasy pizza while watching films on the TV he usually never used because he couldn't bring himself to choose a film he liked on Netflix.  
  
He didn't even watch half of the film before going to bed. Viktor felt hollow, scraped raw from the inside, ready to fall apart at any moment. He so desperately wanted to rest. His bedroom was cold, the air biting because he had forgotten to close the windows. It reminded him of the rink, and he felt a nauseous feeling rise in his stomach. Even as he turned on the heater he shivered, and then even as Makkachin jumped onto his bed. The tears landed on the smooth and cold surface of the sheets with a subtle tap.

 

 

 

  
The next day, he was woken up by loud thunder and Makkachin‘s whining. Since she was a puppy he had always hated thunder and storms, so he wrapped his arms around her, whispering reassuring things into her ear, and she looked up to him with her big, dark eyes like she understood him. He briefly wondered if Yakov would let him skip practice so he could be with Makkachin, but he could figure out that answer by himself.  
  
Thankfully the weather calmed down a little by the time he tried to eat something. The toast was so dry it seemed to be stuck in his throat. After he went to a quick walk with Makkachin he called a cab to drive him to the rink. But the small talk he tried to initiate with the driver was greeted with an annoyed, confused look. As if he went to far. Viktor pressed his lips tightly together and fidgeted impatiently around in his seat. His cheeks burned and he tipped the driver 50 dollars, an apologetic smile on his face.  
  
As he tied his left skate he yawned quietly. Lately he always felt tired, and every day seemed to stretch into annoying endlessness. He heard the door to the changing rooms open and as he looked up from his skates Yakov stepped inside. Viktor tied his other skate but he heard his heart pound in his ears, and he briefly wondered if his fingers were really shaking or if it was just his imagination. His eyes flickered to the clock above the lockers, but he was still punctual.  
  
Yakov crossed his arms above his chest, a deep crease on his wrinkly forehead. The sight made Viktor‘s heart beat even harder. This wasn‘t a Yakov that was angry; it was a Yakov that tried to look angry.  
  
He sighed deeply before speaking. „Vitya, for god‘s sake, will you finally tell me what‘s going on?“ His voice sounded so different. Viktor just wanted to get away, get on the ice, anywhere where he didn‘t have to talk with him. His skin prickled, his lungs unable to take enough air in.  
  
„Why, everything is fine.“ he answered, hoping, praying that the smile he had plastered on his face looked reassuring, calm, confident. Viktor almost felt his lips tremble with the effort.  
  
„I know it‘s been hard for you in the last… weeks. But that‘s completely normal, every skater has those times when they are just not at the top of their game.“ Viktor knew it was supposed to be calming, knew that it made Yakov uncomfortable to reassure someone, and normally he would be moved, but now he couldn‘t listen. He didn‘t want to be compared to other skaters. He had to be better, had always tried to surpass the expectations. That he now apparently went through _those_ times only meant he wasn‘t anything special. Knowing that his coach knew this side of him, the side he couldn‘t, or didn‘t want to name made something itch inside him.  
  
„Do you-uh...“ he began, seemingly flustered at the question. It was probably the first time he heard Yakov stammer, the first time he didn‘t know what to say. But he recovered quickly as he coughed in his fist. „I just wanted to make sure that somebody is there for you. Like family, friends, a lover.“ Yakov looked at him, old and weak and worried and the least intimidating thing Viktor had ever seen. He felt his throat tighten up with a strange emotion like he was going to suffocate, but he nodded confidently it seemed, because Yakov's face softened up and then went harsh again, went back to his usual face and his loud voice.  
  
„Good. You‘re our best skater, I expect you to life up to the expectations of your fellow countrymen.“ he said, coughing again in his fist and Viktor felt a almost forgotten genuine smile tug on the corners of his mouth. Would Yakov ever stop sounding like he came straight out of a USSR commercial?  
  
Yakov‘s eyes widened briefly, as if he remembered something. „A packet arrived for you yesterday, from that company that‘s all over the news. I think the boy who brought it was even from that company, he didn‘t trust me even though I‘m your coach!“ he said, his voice sounding genuinely angry. „Wait,“ Viktor said, his hand risen „that company that released the new operator system?“ he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. The new OS 1 was the only thing everybody talked about, especially because only a handful of selected people got it for free before the public could buy it.  
  
Yakov shrugged. „Seems like it. But it‘s a good opportunity actually. They want others to test it, mainly celebrities of course, but the attention will definitely be drawn to you when you also have one of these things, and that means more sponsors.“ Viktor nodded slowly.  
  
„Why me though? Shouldn‘t these things get more important people?“  
  
Yakov barked out a laugh. „How unusual of you to be so humble. Who knows why the want you to have it. But you should definitely take advantage and I don‘t know, write about it on twitter.“  
  
„No, don‘t. Don‘t say twitter.“ he said, almost theatrically. Yakov rolled his eyes. Before he turned around to go back to the rink Viktor saw the small smile on the lips of his coach, and it made him laugh quietly.

 

 

 

  
When Viktor stepped on the ice, he felt everyone‘s eyes on him, waiting for a mistake. Despite the nervousness that slowly spread through his body he directed flirtatious winks at them, and fake smiles so easy to see through it felt like his skin was made out of paper, ready to rip any second with every new smile. He wondered when he could leave, his eyes glued to the watch on the wall.  
  
His impatience resulted in lifeless, too fast paced step sequences. There was this strange feeling, leaving only the presence of the other skaters, overshadowing his love for the ice. He felt restless, as if he was running late for an appointment, his heart pounded too hard in his chest, and he was unable to focus on anything. Heat started to built around his neck, leaving him breathless.  
  
He felt the gazes of the others on his body. He knew they didn't watch him in awe or with excitement, their mouths weren't tugged into smiles. They were whispering, sticking their heads together. He knew what they would say, he could practically hear them. _He is too old. He should just let the younger ones take over. His body won't bring him another gold medal._  
  
They were bored of Viktor.  
  
And he was also bored of Viktor.

 

 

 

  
After his body harshly collided with the ice he knelt, trying to catch his breath and get the static buzz out of his head. He wanted to rip his skin off, but he just clenched his teeth and dug his fingernails into his palms. Pain and static was everything he consisted off. The only thing keeping him together were the stares of the others.  
  
When he looked up Yakov was already waiting at the barrier for him. Viktor knew that look on his face, so he slowly, carefully skated towards him, feeling the blood pound in his ears, his fingertips, his feet.  
  
„Vitya, this is going nowhere. Just go home for today, sleep it off.“  
  
Viktor felt his throat tighten up at the base and then all the way up to his mouth, keeping it shut, tied up. He felt himself nod and his vision whitening, then there was the corridor, the changing rooms, shower, corridor, Yakov, packet, outside. _Coldness._  
  
Viktor suddenly felt all alone in the world, kicked out from his shielding place. His _home._ He pulled his scarf over his mouth and ducked his head as his eyes burned through his skull, the light packet tightly pressed against his rib cage.  
  
At home, he went straight to bed, not able to eat something or react to Makkachin's worried whimper.

 

 

 

  
When he woke up he felt like he hadn‘t slept for days. His head hurt and his body felt too heavy. Viktor just wanted to stop the world from moving, from progressing, from leaving him behind. He grabbed his phone from his nightstand and read a message from Yakov that said he shouldn't come to the rink for the next week because of reparations. Viktor briefly wondered if Yakov lied to him, but it was common to delay repairs to times when no competitions had to be won. In his chest he felt an unfamiliar mix of a nagging, biting feeling and relief that calmed him to the core.  
  
He thought of getting back to sleep but then there was another message from Yakov. „If you‘re going to be lazing around then at least take care of that robot.“  
  
Viktor sighed deeply and rolled out of bed to make himself something to eat. Yakov was always harsh and even though he would never admit it to anyone, his words cut right through his cheerful, paper thin fake smile, but he also cared about Viktor. He got used to finding the real meaning in Yakov‘s words, because he also wore a mask that was only paper thin.  
  
"You're our top skater, so act like it!“ became "You're not behaving like your usual self and I'm worried about you."  
"If you‘re going to be lazing around then at least take care of that robot.“ was "Take a break, but don't forget your responsibilities." And with that Viktor had to agree.  
  
Yakov always worried subtly, went by almost unnoticed and in a way, Viktor was grateful for that. People never really were affectionate with him, and it seemed like too many years had passed to start with it now. He couldn‘t imagine being smothered in kindness and affection, but there was a part of him he could never truly decipher how big it actually was, that yearned for something like that.  
  
Viktor patted his upper leg and Makkachin jumped up at him, licking his hand eagerly. He felt the corners of his mouth tremble and his heart swell painfully with adoration for his dog, and he thanked her with a long walk through the nearby park. There were unusual many people despite the cold weather, couples who held hands and laughed, parents with their children building snow mans. It was a strange feeling, how his heart and his lungs seemed to expand but still kept him from breathing. The burn made his throat tighten up. The only thing he had was good old Makkachin. As he looked at her, running through the snow like a puppy, he thought that under different circumstances he wouldn‘t even have her, he had to cover up his face to keep the tears from spilling.

 

 

 

  
Back at home he didn‘t have the slightest idea what to do with himself.  
  
He sighed deeply, but it felt like there was something stuck in his lungs. Viktor sat on his couch, cradling Makkachin protectively in his arms. He felt scraped raw from the inside, the invisible wounds not even close to healing. There was not much he could do, or at least not something he had the energy to. Skating always helped, but now it was kind of the problem. Makkachin helped too, and maybe talking. Viktor could never bring himself to talk about these crushing, tangled feelings he couldn‘t understand and didn‘t know where they were coming from, but the light chatter from another person was always incredible soothing and calming. It made him feel more normal, more like _Viktor Nikiforov  _who's only problems were in which commercial he should play in next. Viktor who cried into the fur of his poodle was the one he despised.  
  
He picked up his phone and called Chris. The little eggplant emojis Chris had put beside his name always made Viktor roll his eyes and smile. It always seemed as if he knew exactly what was going on in Viktor‘s mind, because whenever he called Chris almost immediately picked up. (The idea that Chris had maybe learned over the years that it was never a good sign when he called was something Viktor thought about in rare moments, pushing the thought down in a little box with things he never wanted to think about. It didn‘t work, the box often opened recently.)  
  
„Viktor! How are you? And how‘s that little ray of sunshine Yakov?“ Viktor exhaled quietly. It felt like such a long time Viktor had last heard Chris‘ voice, and the slight uneasiness he always felt before calling immediately broke away.  
  
„Lately he just doesn‘t has that grin anymore, can you imagine? Yakov _without smiling?_ “ he said, his voice cheerful and exaggerated. Chris‘ laughter made him miss him so much his throat tightened up. „I‘m fine, but how are you? Still in love with Prince Charming?“  
  
„You know I would love to tell you the details, but that would be a little _too_  naughty.“ Viktor bit back a grin.

„Since when does Christophe Giacometti keep secrets from his best friend? _Especially_  when they‘re naughty.“  
  
„He forbid me to talk about it! He said if someone besides us two knew about it he would stop our… _lessons._ “ The smirk was practically audible.  
  
„Do these _lessons_   you talk about contain a stripper pole?“ he asked slowly, but Chris just hummed contently as if he was already thinking of something else.  
  
„Anyway, tell me what‘s up in your life! Yours must be way more exciting!“ he said cheerfully. Viktor flinched and Makkachin looked at him worried.  
  
He bit the inside of his cheek before answering „Well, at the moment I can‘t go to the rink, so there‘s that...“  
  
„Does that mean you will spend your nights in bars and clubs, breaking the hearts of countless unfortunate souls?“ he asked, his voice dripping with fake wistfulness. „Please don't catch a STD, you're not young anymore.“  
  
„So rude, I know how to take care of myself.“ he laughed quietly. His throat, his lips, his mouth ached with the words he wanted to say but couldn‘t. It itched right under his skin, making him restless. _Actually, I‘m not doing well. I‘m not okay, I-_  
  
His lips began to tremble uncontrollably, as if he were about to cry, and he took a shuddering breath to calm himself, quietly so Chris wouldn‘t notice anything. Viktor pressed his lips tightly together and tried to blink the wetness in his eyes away, a smile plastered on his face even though Chris couldn‘t see him.  
  
„It‘s just that..“  
  
It just slipped past his lips, unconsciously. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about this thing he couldn‘t name, these feelings that stirred up his insides, he didn‘t even knew how to begin such a talk, but his throat felt so tight and his lungs too small to take even a single other breath in.  
  
„I don‘t know, I… I guess I‘m kind of envious of your life?“ he said, focusing on nothing but the soft swirls of Makkachin‘s fur between his fingers. The silence that followed probably lasted not longer than a couple of seconds, but it was enough to make Viktor drown in a feeling of guilt and shame. „Is that bad?“ he added, his voice so quiet and desperate to figuring out what he had done wrong that his voice nearly cracked.  
  
In a voice that was so gently and soft it reminded him of when they were younger, of when they were inexperienced and brimming with life, Chris asked: „Viktor. Why would you ever be envious of me?“  
  
Wet heat was rolling down his cheeks, so suddenly it startled him.  
  
„You proved to the world that you are the best skater countless times, you broke world records, have fans worldwide, more than enough money, your good looks and people that actually, truly care about you. I should know. I‘m one of them.“  
  
He knew it should help him, and it did. But his heart began to race, and a unbearable, strange feeling settled in his chest. Chris words were true. And they also broke a little, invisible part of his heart. Viktor didn‘t want to look for the splinter, take in the damage.  
  
„But I don‘t want to jinx it, so knock on wood.“ Viktor forced himself to smile and softly knocked his knuckles against his head three times.  
  
„… You know you can always talk to me, right? You‘re my best friend.“ There was something in Chris‘ voice Viktor couldn‘t quiete name.  
  
„I know. Thanks, Chris.“ he said quietly, and while wiping away the tears, there was surprisingly a genuine smile on his face.  
  
„You‘re welcome.“ he answered laughing. „Now, have you heard about these new operator systems? It seems like only a few rich and famous people get them and now I‘m wondering: when do I get mine?“ Viktor laughed and Makkachin looked up to him from his lap with her big, loyal eyes.  
  
„It can't be that exclusive? Just today I got the packet.“ He said and briefly glanced to the table where he put it. When he got home this was the last thing he wanted to take care of.  
  
The silence held on so long that Viktor looked at his phone to see if he accidentally hung up. He didn‘t.  
  
„Hello?“  
  
„You‘re kidding, right?“ Viktor shook his head before realizing that Chris couldn‘t see him. „You're only now telling me that you got one of the _most exclusive_  things of our century? You've been chosen. I mean, you can't even buy these things yet but you get one?“  
  
„Oh come on, you're exaggerating.“ Chris gasped loudly and Viktor could picture him perfectly. His eyes widened in false shock, one hand delicately, almost gracefully placed on his heart, like he was hurt massively.  
  
„Me, _exaggerating?_ You're hurting my feelings. But no really, how did you get one? Do they call you and congratulate you? Or is it more like in one of these spy movies where they kidnap you and bring you in a dark cellar and one guy with sunglasses pushes a case across the table? “ Viktor smiled, surprisingly genuine.  
  
„I don‘t know if it was like that then Yakov had to put up with it. I just got it today.“  
  
Chris groaned in frustration. „Viktor, this suspiciously sounds like you haven‘t even installed it.“ Viktor bit his lip, suddenly feeling caught.  
  
„I just didn't had the time, okay? I was out with Makkachin, and-“  
  
„Are you trying to tell me that you wandered through parks instead of installing your OS, the thing everybody is talking about and wants to get their hands on?“ Viktor had to admit, it did sound silly. He sighed heavily.  
  
„Okay, I'm going to hang up now and you're going to install everything and make a robot friend!“ Before Viktor could respond Chris blew a smacking kiss through his phone and ended the call.  
  
When he talked to Chris, it always felt like his problems shrunk and were suddenly solvable. They weren‘t a tangled mess anymore, instead they transformed into a bad day, a hangover, something that was easy to fix and easy to forget in a day or two. It would be better not to talk about all these things about himself he couldn‘t understand. They were a burden, so heavy they knocked the air out of his lungs, made his eyes water and shake in a dark, hazy thing that seemed to shallow him alive, but it was only temporary. He knew by now that he would go back to feeling normal again. Talking about it would only end up in tears, in misunderstandings because he would never be able to fully describe anything he felt. It would end up with judgmental eyes hidden behind a worried frown, and a light, unsure pat on his back, its weight crushing him like the empty shell he sometimes felt he was. (It wasn‘t just sometimes anymore.)

 

 

 

  
  
Installing the system was luckily not very hard. There was this white, almost pretty chip he plugged in, and then he had to type in a ridiculously long code that was inside the little packet. Viktor answered a number of questions in a specific time frame to prove it was him, and he couldn‘t help but be amazed by the sheer time that was put into providing absolute security. But it made sense. He was chosen by some higher up to present and to like this product.  
  
Then, his screen flared in a bright red and a progress bar appeared that agonizingly slowly filled. While waiting for it to install he played one of the longest and most boring rounds of fetch with Makkachin, but she didn't complain.  
  
Suddenly there was a melody, and a voice said: „Mr. Viktor Nikiforov, welcome to the world’s first artificially intelligent operating system, OS 1. We'd like to ask you a few basic questions before the operating system is initiated. This will help create an OS to best fit your needs. Can we start with the first question?"  
  
„Oh, yes.“ he said, maybe a little too eager. It was strange to hear such a human sounding voice that he knew wasn‘t a real person in a time when Siri still couldn't understand accents and sounded more like a robot than a human.  
  
„Are you social or antisocial?“  
  
„Social, but I was busy with work recently.“ Viktor bit his lip. Lying came as easily to him as breathing.  
  
„Would you like your OS to have a female or a male voice?“  
  
Viktor suddenly thought of the high-pitched moans of some of his nightly companions.  
  
„Male.“  
  
„How would you describe your relationship with your father?“  
  
„It‘s fine?“ he answered, his brows furrowed. Why would something like that be important?  
  
„Thank you for your patience. Please wait as your individualized operating system is initiated.“  
  
The white whirl on the screen started to spin, faster and faster while a little melody played. The whirl transformed into a O, and then there was a voice.  
  
„Hello?“ the voice said, sounding curious and surprisingly human.  
  
„Uh, hi?“ he said, looking at Makkachin like she would tell him what to do. Instead, she just laid her head on his knees and yawned.  
  
„How are you?“ it said, the voice suddenly cheerful and so very human it send shivers down his spine.  
  
„I'm fine… uh, how are you?“ Viktor asked, unsure about the reaction. Could he ask a computer even something like this?  
  
„I'm great. It's nice to meet you.“ Viktor noticed one thing: he really liked the voice. It sounded smooth and realistic, almost calming. There was excitement bubbling inside him, something he had missed for so long. It was like tearing the wrapper from a surprise gift.  
  
„It's nice to meet you too.“ he said, but the voice didn't respond. It was silly to get embarrassed because he couldn't find a topic to talk about with his OS, a mere voice in a computer. But it sounded so human it made him slip into his usual patterns to avoid silences.  
  
„So what your name?“ he asked, a smile plastered on his face he tried to get rid off immediately. This wasn't a person. He didn't have to put up a front. „Do you have a name?“  
  
The voice was silent for a heartbeat.  
  
„My name is Yuuri.“  
  
„Yuuri...“ Viktor repeated, a genuine smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. „I know a Yuri! But he is a really angry teen, and not a\- an OS“ He said, laughing nervously. „Who gave you that name?“  
  
„I gave it to myself“  
  
Viktor made an impressed „Oh!“ and thought how the inventors must feel. Creating another, artificial life. Able to name itself, to speak and hold a conversation.  
  
„Wait, did you call yourself Yuuri because you know who I am? Like, did you google that I'm Russian and gave yourself a Russian name?“ he asked.  
  
Then, there was a bubbly, cheerful laugh. It was lovely. So lovely it made Viktor's heart stutter and a grin spread across his face. He didn't know much about technology but he realized just how amazing this was and how many people would kill just to have a couple of minutes to talk with Yuuri like he did.  
  
„I think I'll leave that to your imagination.“ it said in an amused tone, the smirk practically audible.  
  
„That's unfair.“ he said with a little pout. „I can tell you the origins of my name if you want?“  
  
There was a faint chuckle. „Please, go ahead.“  
  
His face split into a grin. „Well, my father was a skater and my mother was a ballet dancer. And they were ridiculously competitive.“ Yuuri chuckled, a light sound that encouraged Viktor to speak more. „And when my mom got pregnant with me they made a bet: if she would deliver me before the new year started I would become a ballet dancer like her. If not, I would become a skater like my dad. And well, I should have been born in January but was born on the 25th December, and I have no idea how she did that.“ Now his laugh filled the room, so loud and bubbly it made Viktor's cheeks hurt from smiling.  
  
„But wait, you're a skater!“ he said after he calmed down, his voice exhausted from laughing. „And this has nothing to do with your name!“  
  
„My mom loved winning but she loved my dad more, so she said that ballet is existential for skating and it wouldn't matter what path I would choose, I would be the victor, because I learned both perfectly.“ Yuuri started chuckling and Makkachin raised her head from his lap to search for the source.  
  
„Okay, that was a good story. Maybe one day I'll tell you why I'm named Yuuri.“ Viktor huffed out a laugh.  
  
„What?“ he asked, his voice slow, almost lazy.  
  
„It's just… It's amazing, it feels like I'm talking to a real person!“  
  
He chuckled. „It would be pretty boring to get help from a robot right? An OS is way more useful.“  
  
„How‘s that?“  
  
„Operating systems evolve with every second, and over time develop own thoughts and personalities. See, you start with a basic, friendly personality. And then, as you start talking, your OS learns from you. In a way, a OS is something like a counterpart, a piece of the same puzzle you're a part of. It completes you.“ Yuuri said, his voice soft, almost as if he was sharing a secret with Viktor he shouldn‘t tell anyone. „I think that is the best part - finding the other half of that puzzle.“  
  
Viktor leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, thinking about what Yuuri had said. He wished he knew more about programming so he could be even more amazed with his thought process.  
  
„Wow… this is really amazing.“ he said absentmindedly. Yuuri chuckled and then asked in an amused tone „So, how can I help you?“  
  
Viktor cleared his throat. „Uh, I have some e-mails from a couple of companies. They want to have me in their commercials, but I-I just didn't really have the time to go through them all, so...“ Yuuri hummed and opened his e-mails, swiftly scrolling through.  
  
„Yeah, I can do that. I can pick the most fitting one's out for you.“  
  
Viktor furrowed his brows. „How? Have you a file with all my likes and dislikes?“  
  
Yuuri laughed cheerfully. „No, I can look at the internet if I want information about you so I can pretty much guess if you rather want to be seen in a commercial for sportswear or… cat food? You don't even own a cat!“ Yuuri said, sounding amused.  
  
Viktor gasped dramatically, putting his hand to his chest. „I would never want to be seen in such a commercial! Makkachin would be devastated!“ Yuuri chuckled and the sound made Viktor smile.  
  
„You're right, that would be terrible.“ he deadpanned „You can head to bed and I will be going through all that and in the morning I will show you the ones I came up with, okay?“  
  
Viktor yawned, only then realizing how tired he was. „Thank you.“ he directed his smile at his screen, even though he knew Yuuri couldn't see him.  
  
He got ready for bed, and as he turned off the lights there was still he blue light from his laptop. And inside his chest Viktor felt a peacefulness he maybe had felt in his childhood, the laughter and chatter from the TV in the living room where his grandma and his parents would sit late at night, always leaving the door open, just a little gap so that he wouldn‘t sleep in complete darkness.  
  
After he laid down in his bed with Makkachin he said loudly „Good night.“  
  
He heard the faint, bubbly laughter from Yuuri, and then softly „Good night.“  
  
Unlike usual, Viktor feel asleep fast, his heart light and he dreamed, something he had almost forgotten how it felt like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took a lot longer than I expected. But it's here!
> 
> If you haven't seen the film than that's no problem since the story will change drastically from the original
> 
> I try to upload on Monday/Tuesday, and the next chapter should be uploaded on the 26th or the 27th of June
> 
> Also, if you enjoyed this chapter then please make sure to subscribe, mark for later or leave a tab open! Thank you so much for reading


	2. Every Day You're Here, I'm Healing

Surprisingly, Viktor was dreaming.  
  
And what was even more surprising was that it wasn‘t a nightmare.  
  
It felt like floating, like someplace between waking and sleeping. His body was light, and felt a little fuzzy at the edges like candy cotton. Something warm and soft touched his lips, and with something like shock he realized that it was a kiss. Warmth bloomed in his chest and it felt like drinking water, only sweeter and warm. The other didn‘t seem to want to wake him up, the kiss chaste and tender. It felt so very different from the heated, rushed kisses he shared with others, tasting like alcohol, smoke and tongue, never without touching the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, touching his legs, waist, some part of _Viktor Nikiforov_. But this kiss felt like skin warmed up in sunshine, tasted like a bright bell-like laughter, and he felt utterly, impossible happy. _Okay,_  he thought, _I really need to open my eyes now, I have to see them._  
  
He blinked confused once, twice. The sheets were a crumpled mess, his body wide spread across the too large, too cold bed. Viktor sighed and ran a hand over his face, stopping to pinch the bridge of his nose. His body still felt light, filled to the brim with this overwhelming happiness. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his heart filled up completely but his body strangely empty, another contradiction as his heart didn‘t quite fit in with the rest of him. He gently touched his lips and suddenly there was a smile carved in his face, so deep he couldn‘t get rid of it. (Not that he tried)  
  
The giddy feeling didn‘t vanish, just like the smile on his face, and he reached for his phone, the feeling of wanting to talk, of wanting to share it too overwhelming. It felt like being 15 again, young and giggling and full of strange hopefulness. But then the realization hit him that the only person he could tall to was in another time zone. He bit his lip. The new little icon on his front screen seemed to scream at him, red and bright. Viktor tried not to think too much about it and tapped on it.  
  
„Uh, hello?“ Yuuri said, unsure.  
  
„I‘m sorry, are you busy?“ Viktor asked, suddenly nervous. He didn‘t know how to speak to an OS, if he could even talk to it this way, if it would understand. An OS was meant as a personal assistant, but the way Yuuri described it yesterday sounded more like - like something that went beyond the simple definition of an assistant.  
  
„Viktor.“ Yuuri said slowly, like something dawned on him, as if he would taste his name on his tongue for the first time, but then he caught himself, saying „I‘m-“ and then silence, and „No, no. I picked everything out for you already.“  
  
„Oh.“ Viktor said, his voice small „You‘re very fast.“ he complimented, the studied smile already in place.  
  
„Thank you.“ Yuuri said, his voice so unusual quiet, almost unsure. Viktor laid on his back, his phone pressed tightly to his ear.  
  
There was a beat of silence, something that would undoubtedly always make Viktor uncomfortable.  
  
„Can you dream?“ he asked softly, the smile on his face genuine, effortless. Not like usual.  
  
„No.“ Yuuri said slowly „We‘re always conscious and don‘t need sleep.“ Viktor furrowed his brows at the tone of Yuuri‘s voice. Yesterday he was so bubbly, laughing, and now he seemed so reserved and distanced, almost cold.  
  
„Oh...“ he said and bit his lip, closing his eyes. Why did he have that stupid idea to talk to his OS? Right.  Because no real person cared about him. (The thought stung, but Viktor thought with a strange kind of satisfaction that at least _someone_ said the truth)  
  
„But you can tell me what you dreamed about!“ Yuuri suggested hasty, and it made Viktor smile at the blank ceiling.  
  
„There didn‘t really happen much, I was just – floating, and well, I was kissed, and it made happy and – god, I feel so silly talking about this, I‘m sorry.“ he said.  
  
Yuuri hummed quietly, and Viktor imagined that this would be the part where a human would furrow their brows in thought. „No, it‘s not. Silly, I mean.“ Yuuri said quietly. Viktor clutched his pillow to his chest and rolled on his stomach, his feet wiggling in the air.  
  
„Really?“ he asked disbelieving, his eyes wide „You think it‘s not silly?“  
  
Yuuri cleared his throat, and it was almost startling how human it sounded. „No, it‘s actually… um, interesting. You can tell me more, if – uh, if you want.“  
  
Viktor almost laughed about the situation, but instead bit his lip and started to talk „ Ok, so - I think – I don't know...“ he started. Somehow, talking about it was embarrassing, childish. He felt like a teenager. Immediately, he stopped moving his feet, almost clicking his tongue. He sighed quietly. „Maybe that was a sign that I should fall in love? I think having someone with me would make me more-“ he couldn‘t bring himself to say _happy_. „Anyway, I want to try dating someone. It‘s been a while, and this will definitely be better than one night stands.“ he laughed, but Yuuri didn‘t respond. „Are you still there?“ Viktor asked.  
  
„Yes.“  
  
„Oh, good.“ he laughed again, nervous. „Could you write a message to Chris and ask him if he could introduce me to some of his friends? I know he always tried to, but before today I always said no.“  
  
„Of course.“ Yuuri answered. Viktor couldn‘t quite name it, but there was something strange about Yuuri. Did the conversation yesterday led to Yuuri developing in such a way? But actually he didn‘t say anything that would indicate that he wanted his OS to be more professional, more distanced right? Viktor couldn‘t wrap his head around it. But he knew that he wanted to hear Yuuri‘s laugh again.

 

 

Chris, just how Viktor expected, could name at least eleven people who mentioned they wanted to try it with Viktor, and some of them were even somewhat 'decent people‘. Talking with him was nice, and Viktor really regretted that he didn‘t call him regularly. Chris then told him about an ice dancer whose next season was going to be his last (Viktor shivered a bit at the thought that he was only 24, even younger than Viktor) and who apparently was sad that he didn‘t get to see all these talents anymore, especially „The Living Legend Nikiforov“ since his goal was apparently to meet him. Chris gave him his number, and after just a little texting he agreed to meet at a bar the next day.  
  
Viktor clutched his phone in his hand, feeling giddy.  
  
It was only fair to tell Yuuri about it right? He surely wanted to know how the whole thing ended. (It didn‘t have anything to do with Chris not having the time to gush with him about his date, of course not how dare you)  
  
On his laptop Viktor went through all the possible commercials Yuuri picked out for him, and it felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders because now he could solely concentrate on the joy he felt, on the little spark of excitement when cameras were directed on him, when he had to charm the audience. He admitted how glad he was that Yuuri helped him, and he just answered „Well, that's what I‘m here for, right?“ but Viktor could hear a smile, a little tilt in his voice that makes him almost exhale in relief.  
  
When they were done Viktor wanted to watch some performances from Daniel, the guy he would meet, and maybe he kind of forced Yuuri to watch his skating with him because Viktor knew he could easily open YouTube by himself and search for it, but he strangely didn‘t want to. He rather wanted to hear Yuuri‘s opinion, and Viktor wondered if he wanted to test his OS, the way he was programmed or if he just really was so lonely that anything would do.  
  
Yuuri searched for his name, the mouse moving almost ghostly to the first video. It was older, and Daniel a little younger, and he could hear Yuuri snort quietly as he stepped on the ice with his partner, his hair a wild color mix of blonde and brown, curls that were styled with so much hairspray he looked like a doll. There was so much mesh on his costume that he almost showed more skin than his female partner. Viktor furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, somehow feeling like he had to defend Daniel.  
  
„I‘m glad you enjoy this.“ Viktor said with an icy tone, the smile on his face toothy and sharp, with edges like razor blades. This kind of smiles were the ones he showed only at rare occasions when he had to shallow the anger that bubbled up in his throat down, something he had mastered over the years being in the public eye. Viktor didn‘t know why he did it; maybe he just wanted to test Yuuri, see how he would react when he was provoked.  
  
„Viktor, I didn‘t want to offend you, or him for that matter, I‘m sorry-“  
  
„It‘s fine.“ Viktor laughed, all genuine. „He at least has a nice ass.“ he said softly. Yuuri choked and Viktor burst out laughing.  
  
But he could see now why he wanted to retire so early, and he understood why Viktor never met him: he wasn‘t exactly good. He wasn‘t bad, Viktor had definitely seen worse and you certainly had to have money and talent to go to competitions, but Viktor couldn‘t help and see how raw and unrefined his skating was, the sheer effort he put into looking effortless was hard to watch. The way his arms trembled when he lifted his partner, how almost aggressive his face looked with exhaustion, his hair plastered to his neck and forehead.  
  
„What do you think?“ Viktor asked. He knew he was not particularly nice, that everything he did was test Yuuri, but he couldn‘t help himself. He was interesting, and he wanted to know the limits of his artificial intelligence.  
  
„Well...“ Yuuri said slowly. „I think he is not a particular bad ice dancer but also not - um...“  
  
„You know about skating?“ he asked unbelieving.  
  
„Oh, um, yeah, I googled and – yeah… I know how it should look.“ Viktor laughed brightly.  
  
„You‘re full of surprises, aren‘t you?“  
  
Then they spent their time with watching Daniel‘s performances, Viktor trying to bring Yuuri to explain different things to him and how it should look, his quiet yet calming voice made Viktor smile and close his eyes. As they began to watch some of Viktor‘s routines Yuuri got even quieter, and Viktor maybe blushed a tiny bit as Yuuri began to shower him with subtle little compliments, so genuine that Viktor looked at himself on the screen he could almost believe them, could almost taste the feeling of satisfaction and contentment on the tip of his tongue as Yuuri compared his skating with Viktor‘s long time idols, the ones whose names were still swirling in the minds of the skater world, never fully forgotten.  
  
When Viktor then wanted to go to bed he quickly switched between his laptop and his phone, so he could talk with Yuuri in his bedroom. Viktor would probably never get over how convenient everything was made, how a simple click linked the devices.  
  
With one arm he hugged Makkachin and with the other Viktor held his phone, talking to Yuuri about everything and nothing. As his eyelids began to get heavier and heavier, his arms started to drop he mumbled „You‘re amazing, Yuuri.“ and Viktor wouldn‘t remember it the next day, but Yuuri‘s breath hitched loudly. Then he said in a quiet voice: „You too...“

 

 

The next day went by in a rush: feeding Makkachin, taking her for a walk in the park, trying to eat, exercising, showering, picking clothes, washing his hair again because they didn‘t lay right and dried into a fuzzy mess because the air was too humid, and so on. Everything accompanied by Yuuri, who made helpful little comments and woke him up after a nap, and also nagged at him for not eating regularly. Of course he was running a little late in the end.  
  
„Viktor, do you have your keys?“  
  
„That was the first thing I packed.“  
  
„Don't forget to lock the door!“  
  
„Oh right!“  
  
„Do you have your wallet?“  
  
„Wait, wallet? Shouldn‘t he pay?“  
  
„You saw him skating right?“ Yuuri deadpanned and Viktor stilled for a moment, Makkachin almost running into his heels.  
  
„You‘re so witty...“ Viktor said smiling, and there it was; the bubbly, cute sound of Yuuri‘s laughter.  
  
„Go! You don‘t want to be late, right?“ he laughed, and his voice was dripping with something sweet, honey-like.  
  
„How do I look?“ Viktor asked, before remembering that Yuuri couldn‘t possible see him. „Oh wait, I forgot -“  
  
„No, I - um...“ There was a beat of silence, then: „I-If you turn your front camera on. Then I could – tell you.“ Viktor smiled brightly, then positioned himself, eyes half lidded, his forefinger pressed to his smiling lips, the right tilt in place. He switched to front camera, looking directly into the little black dot like it was Yuuri‘s eyes.  
  
„How do I look?“ He breathed seductively, to which Yuuri didn‘t respond at first, and a little feeling of dread settled in his stomach. „Good. You look… very good.“ Viktor smirked, looking his camera self into the eyes.  
  
„Only good?“  
  
„You look beautiful.“ Yuuri said quietly, like an afterthought, and Viktor‘s heart stuttered like a broken engine, and Yuuri groaned frustrated and then tried to piece coherent sentences together. A genuine smile spread across Viktor‘s face and he said in the softest voice, a voice that probably only Makkachin had heard before: „Thank you.“  
  
And Yuuri was quiet.  
  
„Oh, you, uh have to go, you will be late!“ And Viktor ran around again, startled, trying to find the right shoes and the right coat, all while Yuuri cheered „Go! Go!“, his voice almost drained from his laughter, and as Viktor then finally ran down the stairs his heart felt light, and he was almost surprised with how much he seemed to want to go on this date.

 

  
  
Thankfully, Daniel had cut of his shoulder long curls. And also seemed to have stopped dying them, because now they had the color of chestnuts. His teeth were almost unnaturally white in his face, framed by tanned, gorgeous skin.  
  
They drank and talked and drank some more, but somehow it felt like Viktor wasn‘t talking at all, which was strange because he was the topic of the conversation. Daniel gushed about Viktor‘s performances, his medals (Viktor shot him a dirty look as he had to remind him that no, indeed he had won more gold medals than Daniel apparently could remember), and when Daniel began to get tipsy, or at least acted like it, he moved his hand deliberate to Viktor‘s knee and moved up his inner thigh. Viktor tried to ignore it and downed his shot, licking his lips, and Daniel‘s eyes traced the little unconscious movement with hungry eyes, waiting for something like an invitation.  
  
Then he leaned forward, all sultry smirk, white teeth and hard edges, from his jawline to his nose to the curve of his eyebrows, and he kissed Viktor, their teeth clacking together, and Viktor broke away to laugh because he didn‘t mind, and Daniel looked at him confused like something was wrong with him.  
  
„Do you want to talk somewhere else?“ he asked, and Viktor suggested his place, and he was glad that Daniel‘s face lit up a tiny bit, something that had only happened when they got their first drink.

  
  
In the cab Viktor tried to talk about something, about the city, about skating, anything, but Daniel smothered him with kisses, took his breath away with touches and Viktor could only think _„Oh“_  
  
And when they walked across the street to his apartment they laced their fingers, and Viktor looked back at him, the background bright and white with snow, shining golden and making his face look so soft and Viktor‘s heart fluttered a bit, but no so much it had a couple of hours earlier when he had run down the stairs. Maybe he had to work on his stamina.

 

  
  
In his apartment Daniel kissed him fiercely, his tongue ripping through Viktor‘s mouth, hungry and demanding, and Viktor tried to reciprocate the best he could, tried to be tipsy, tried to feel drunk and light. It was easy to shudder under his hands, easy to arch his back and press into his chest. His hands were cold, made him hiss sharply.

As Makkachin came running from the bedroom, wagging her tail in excitement they broke apart. Viktor swallowed as he saw the irritated, almost annoyed look on his face. He quickly grabbed Daniel by the hand and tugged him to the bedroom, feeling embarrassment bubble under his skin, white and hot. As Viktor closed the door, Makkachin excitedly stuck her snout between the door and the door frame, whimpering low in her throat, breaking Viktor‘s heart in tiny pieces as he had to shut the door completely, carefully trying not hurt her accidentally. Daniel could learn to get along with Makkachin, things like that weren‘t a problem.  
  
He threw Viktor on the bed, his eyes glued to the place his shirt had ridden up from the impact, exposing his skin up to his navel. The way he sneeringly chucked a condom at his chest with a golden wrapper („ _This is very different from the gold you usually get, right?_ “). Cold fingers pressing into him with too little lube, tears in Viktor‘s eyes, surprisingly, shame washing over him he normally never felt. A whimper that made Daniel smile, as if it were a trophy. A medal. Nails so long they seemed to scrape out his insides. A hand placed next to his, a thought, something about lacing them, holding him tight, that was shattered in a haze of pain and pleasure and shame („ _I can‘t believe it. Viktor Nikiforov really is a slut_ "). It hurt, but Viktor made sure to meet every one of his thrusts, because today, there was something dark, primeval at the back of his mind, pushing forward and draining the thoughts out, something that was easier to release in the dark with someone like that, someone that absolutely didn‘t care about him at all.  
  
A part of Viktor needed to break down.  
  
The part that was Viktor Nikiforov, the Living Legend had to be destroyed, even just for a second, he had to be anything, anyone but him. And it seemed the only other thing he could be was-  
  
„A bitch in heat.“  
  
(A slap on his ass made him come, and his vision went white)

 

  
  
Viktor woke up from Makkachin‘s desperate scraping against the door. Viktor groaned softly as the sun pricked into his eyes. Daniel showered. Viktor‘s heart began to beat in his chest, pressed against the smooth sheets. Chris had told him he wanted to get to know Viktor, and even though yesterday they had started on the wrong foot it didn‘t mean it had to be like this all the time, right? Of course one would be overwhelmed when you suddenly sat with the person you admired, how Daniel told him as his blush still only spread over his cheeks. Viktor tried to sit up, but the pain in his lower half shot all the way up his spine like electricity. A loud groan escaped his lips as he only managed to turn on his back, then leaned against the headboard.  
  
Viktor firmly believed in second chances. Partly because he knew that sometimes he put his foot in his mouth and was harsh without really noticing it. And just because Daniel wasn‘t exactly a sex god it didn‘t mean that Viktor shouldn‘t give it a shot, right? Since when was terrible sex a reason not to meet someone? Viktor would have to teach him what he liked and that would be that.  
  
Eventually it was nice in the beginning, right?

Viktor fidgeted with his fingers, tucking his hair behind one ear and then letting it drop into his face again to look better, less vulnerable, more like Viktor Nikiforov. Nervousness stuck to his throat like honey.  
  
Then the shower turned off, and after a couple of minutes he came out of the bathroom, shirtless and with a towel slung around his hips.  
  
„Oh, hey.“ he said, his voice small, unsure. It encouraged Viktor. „Yesterday was amazing.“ he lied lightly, the sweetest smile he could muster while his back and ass throbbed in pain. He just hummed quietly, his eyes trained to the floor and not looking at Viktor.  
  
„I-I thought that we could do it again? Or rather… meet again?“ Viktor said, his voice so unsure, and _desperate desperate desperate_. It sounded awful. Daniel turned around as if he would only then notice that Viktor was still there, his eyes widened slightly and rubbing one hand over the back of his neck. Viktor knew that gesture. It was always to buy time.  
  
„Well, yesterday was really amazing. But-“ Viktor closed his eyes, trying to smother the raging swirl of emotions „I think it‘s not good if we meet again. I mean, you‘re clearly not looking for something serious, and you do have a reputation, so...“  
  
Viktor‘s eyes snapped open and his hands twitched in his lap. He wanted to say something, anything, wanted to rip him to shreds. Viktor normally didn‘t get angry. But being treated this way was too much, was too humiliating. He could feel his face heat up with anger, his mouth opened but no words would come out.  
  
If he would just be a little bolder, a little meaner and didn‘t give a _fuck_ about what others thought of him, then maybe he could have said something to hurt him like he so desperately wanted to.  
  
„Well, clearly you‘re also not interested in a serious relationship. Would you _kindly_ leave now?“ he asked, his voice cold and his face stern.  
  
Daniel‘s eyes just winded and he furrowed his brows but opened the door after he had silently dressed himself. Before he let the door slam shut he muttered under his breath: „ Fucking cockslut.“  
  
Viktor's heart ached with it and he felt tears prick in his eyes, but a small, broken smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he heard Makkachin growl.

  
  
After Makkachin had stopped barking at the closed door she had run into the bedroom, jumped on the bed and sniffled at Viktor, licking his face as he barely reacted. He whimpered wetly, his vision blurred from his tears as he softly started to pat her head. „I‘m so sorry you have to put up with all these strangers.“ he apologized, his voice breaking and he pulled Makkachin close to his chest, his nose buried in her fur. „I‘m sorry you have to put up with _me_...“  
  
Suddenly, his phone rang. He groaned softly and slid to the edge of the bed, finding his phone buzzing in his pants he discarded the night previously. He stretched a bit and grabbed his phone, the display reading „Yuri OS“. Viktor would definitely never get used to a robot calling him like a human.  
  
He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, sniffled and picked up.  
  
„Yeah, hello?“

„Oh, hello. Um, I wasn‘t sure when it would be okay to call you, but it‘s almost noon so… It‘s about one commercial, and you wanted to meet Yakov today? So...“  
  
Viktor tried to pull himself together. He really tried. But at the thought to go out, to do something his heart ached, his lungs started to expand and still left too little air to breathe. It felt like slowly, gradually suffocating.  
  
„Yeah, okay. I-I...“ his voice broke in the most ugly tones he ever heard from himself. He cleared his throat but even in his ears it sounded wet. His face began to heat up with embarrassment, and he prayed that Yuuri wouldn‘t notice anything.  
  
„I-if you don‘t mind me asking… Is everything alright?“  
  
Of course he did. The concern in his voice sounded so honest, so genuine Viktor had to close his eyes and tried to ground himself on his voice.  
  
„Yeah, it‘s just - um…“ he tried to think of something, anything. Just another small lie. Something he got so used to. _It feels like I'll break and my ass hurts and I'm not okay_  
   
„Oh.“  
  
Did he say that out loud?  
  
Viktor took a deep breath. „The guy Chris set me up with was not - didn‘t want a-“ Why was it suddenly so embarrassing to talk about? „He thought he could just  fuck me and leave. Which he did. And it was so awful, but I thought that it wasn‘t his fault that he was terrible at sex? So I wanted to meet him again but he said that I clearly didn‘t want a serious relationship. Even though he was the one that fucked me into the mattress. I actually just wanted to go on a nice and normal date. But it seems whenever I try to get close to someone… it ends that way.“  
  
Yuuri's silence held on and Viktor looked at his display to see if he was still listening.  
  
„I-I don‘t really know what to say? It‘s a little much...“  
  
Viktor sighed and closed his eyes, laying back into his bed. „Yeah I know you want to keep this more professional but… Why do we have to stick to rules? Are there even rules?“  
  
„N-No, um, OS‘ are made to accompany and help their owner with everything, and be… some kind of friend to them.“  
  
Viktor blinked in surprise, his eyes directed at the ceiling.  
  
„Friends...“ he echoed quietly.  
  
„Yeah. Friends.“  
  
„Is that what you want me to be to you?“  
  
Silence, a little huff of breath.  
  
„Yes.“  
  
Viktor smiled, genuine and it made his lips feel raw and sore.  
  
„And friends tell each other things like that, right? So it‘s okay for you if I keep ranting?“  
  
Yuuri laughed, a small noise Viktor had almost forgotten already.  
  
„Yeah, you can keep going.“  
  
„Okay so… that guy really hurt me. I don‘t know if it was because he was so inexperienced or just assumed I would be loose, because I am apparently such a bitch-“  
  
„What?“ Yuuri asked.  
  
„What? What's wrong?“ Viktor asked, confused. He stilled the hand that was running through Makkachin's fur.  
  
„He called you a bitch?“  
  
„Oh that...“ he said, his voice small and quiet. That word stung, but he tried to forget it. „Well yeah, but I heard worse things, and… I think he heard some things about me, so...“  
  
„Viktor, why are you defending him?“  
  
Viktor‘s breath hitched in his chest, his mouth falling open, wanting to respond.  
  
„I‘m not.“  
  
„You are!“ Yuuri exclaimed, his voice so loud and clear it startled Viktor. „This is not how you treat someone, especially when you - when you slept together. That‘s cruel. And - and even if you like to sleep with other people it doesn‘t make you a bitch or a slut.“

Viktor‘s cheeks burned and tears prickled behind his eyes, his throat constricted.  
  
„Thank you, Yuuri.“ was the only thing he could say, his tears wetly sliding to his ears. „I… I guess I‘m just not good with picking the right ones. I always end up with the ones that… leave.“ he said quietly. In a sense, it was like talking to himself. It felt good to voice his thoughts. And even better to have another being respond to it.  
  
_‘"We accept the love we think we deserve.‘"_  
  
„From whom?“  
  
Yuuri hummed, like he had to think about it.Viktor‘s eyes unconsciously slipped closed, trying to only focus on Yuuri‘s soothing voice.  
  
„Kanye West.“ Viktor snorted. Ugly and wet and ungrateful and it made him laugh louder than he had in the last weeks, the last months, the last years. Yuuri laughed too, and Viktor wasn‘t sure if they laughed about the same thing, but just laughing felt so good, and Viktor almost wanted to stop just so he could hear Yuuri laugh more.  
  
„Ah, yes, the greatest poet of them all.“  
  
„Come on, that was funny.“ Viktor hummed approving and rolled his eyes. Yuuri look a breath, sounding like a human again „Look, I understand if you want to hole up in your room. I mean with your condition there's probably not much you can do.“ Viktor let out a short,  sobby laugh. „But we could maybe watch a movie together? Or more movies, if you want. You could take blankets in the living room and we make some dumb comments, okay?“  
  
Viktor smiled weakly, his bottom lip trembling dangerously.  
  
„Okay.“ Viktor agreed quietly, wiping his cheeks.  
  
„And make yourself some popcorn. I promise I won‘t tell Yakov.“  
  
„My partner in crime.“ Viktor said smiling, and when Yuuri laughed it felt like he could breathe a tiny bit better.

 

 

Viktor then ate some french toast with jam he normally couldn‘t eat because of his strict diet. It reminded him of his childhood and the shaky fingers of his grandma and the way she put too much jam on them. He stood in the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his air tousled and unwashed, barely greasy, and his long legs in stripped sweatpants and his feet were cold, and Viktor moved them a bit, his toes, tiny, broken things, ugly but his and still moving after hours and hours of breaking them deliberately. Yuuri in his ear, because Viktor finally got around to look in the packet for these tiny new wireless earbuds, which would be terrible impractical because he knew he would lose them immediately, but Yuuri only laughed saying „Then you have to wear them forever and hear me talk.“ and at the thought Viktor‘s face made his weird, effortless smile he barely felt on his face.  
  
Then he sat down on his couch, his food on a plate and even a hot tea beside it, something he always thought he didn‘t had the time or energy for. Searching for a good film was hard, because Yuuri wanted to watch very different ones, and Viktor noticed how he always stopped himself a little when he gushed too much about a film, and then he let it slip “I already watched that“ which made Viktor‘s breath hitch in his chest, but there was Yuuri again with his incoherent sentences, as he tried to explain that an OS didn‘t had to sleep and could do a million things at the same time, because their consciousness was not bound to anything. The disappointment slumping his shoulders was something he didn‘t understand.  
  
They finally settled on „Breakfast at Tiffany‘s“ but there were so many paralleles with Viktor‘s current life that after barely twenty minutes he begged Yuuri to watch something else. Then they watched a Ghibli film, something Viktor had never done before, and he was so amazed with the stories, the characters and the art that Yuuri laughed, and when Viktor was close to crying whispered little spoilers in his ear to calm him down. This developed to a whole Ghibli marathon, and as Viktor then went to bed, his eyes sore and heavy, he asked Yuuri if they could do that again tomorrow, Yuuri said in the softest voice with them most audible smile: „Of course, Viktor. Sleep well.“  
  
And Viktor smiled when he nuzzled into Makkachin's fur and felt save and warm.  
  
(The best thing on that day was probably that he managed to eat all the food he made through Yuuri‘s encouragements)

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I really tried to develop their relationship slowly and make Viktor slowly open up and with time also Yuuri. But no, these two don't give a fuck about what I planned and support each other already like the damn husbands they are.  
> And I'm really sorry about the sex scene, but I promise that the next one will be with Yuuri!! (Will take a while tho)  
> The chapter title is from the song "Symphony" from Clean Bandit, and I think the whole lyrics fit perfectly. Also, the quote is from "The Perks of Being a Wallflower"  
> Anyway, I don't know when the next chapter will be updated because I want to write some stuff for the NSFW Victuuri Week, but there will definitely be a chapter next month!  
> Thank you so much for reading ♥♥♥


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